The first smile

There is no new

So early in March


How right it is to stride across

The past. Into another season


With sap rising

In the lengthening light


Hope will tug at opportunity

So strike a pose


Walk with purpose

Ignore that porpoise


We can be funny

Covered in honey


Alluring to

A sweet-toothed muse


Revel in your status

As a simpleton


A chocolate covered minstrel

Aiming to amuse


Pucker the lips



Create the laughter lines

And let age construct


The ridged framework

Of a happy man